Song of Silver Sheen
by Rei-Mornie
Summary: Tragedys befall Gil-Galad's youngest, one after another. With her sister's children she has to leave for Ithilien and the ship being made there, then take it to Valinor. The builder of the ship: Legolas, whose love she had rejected years before. not a sue
1. Prolouge

This story came to me one night while I was eating popcorn and watching an extended scene of ROTK. The one where Eowyn is lying in the sick room and Aragorn and Eomer are by her side as she wakes up? Well the song the wasn't on the soundtrack or the theatrical version of the movie, but it really moved me. More so than any of the others I've heard. The song was sung very, _very_ well (what song isn't sung nicely in the LOTR's?) and it had me think, well, since Legolas is my favorite character (has been even before the movie, and it doesn't have to do with Orlando Bloom, even though I can't deny he is a stud) wouldn't it be nice to write a fic where he meets some elven chic who wasn't a mary-sue beyond all reason? What if the elf he met was a musician? A mature, content she-elf who doesn't kill orcs, steal lines from the characters out of the movie (I am loath to say I used to be one of those authors who wrote like that), and doesn't kill Balrogs and solve everyone's problems.

And hence, I give you this fanfiction, so here me be…

Disclaimer: I can never be as great as the man, Mr. Tolkien. He is the true man-man…uh, man.

Prologue

Anemiel awoke from her terrible dream with a start, breathing heavily and troubled. She had seen her husband, Gil-Galad, High King of the Western Elves, killed before her dreaming eyes.

Nay, not merely killed, slaughtered brutally. She knew it in her heart it was not only a dream of the stressful months past. No, it was- in fact- a reality. A harsh, horrible reality.

She knew it. By every fiber of her being she knew that her husband lay dead on a battle field below the cracks of Mount Doom.

Anémiel rose from her bed, ready to grieve her way to death, so she could find her husband on long white shores, and hold him close to her equally passed spirit.

But she knew better. She had a young girl-child to care for, and she could not allow herself to pass and leave her daughter alone in the world.

With a sigh, Anemiel pressed her pale trembling hands to her eyes, and tried to press them hard enough so she would become blinded. Maybe they would burst behind her closed lids? She needed something bad to happen to her, to make her feel more miserable than she was with another cold, cruel reality. She could not a allow the grief to take her, at least not yet.

When she knew her daughter was safe and not alone, then she would pass on to the warm, welcome arms of death.

Suddenly a wave of nausea threw her from her morbid thoughts and she flew to the water basin and emptied her stomach without control. When the nausea passed she looked up from the bowl into the mirror before her.

Her long dark hair was in tangles and it framed her snow white face pitifully. Her ghostly blue eyes peered into the mirror ones, and she cried out in anguish at the obvious, and she began to think.

Her moon cycles were supposed to have come weeks before, and she then she had just brushed off the occurrence with the thought that the stress of the war and the worry she was faced with was delaying her cycle. But she had been a fool…

Her breath hitched in her throat and she was struck with yet another realization: she was pregnant.

"No," she heard herself say, like a soft wind whispering the word into her ear. "I can't be…"

She was struck with another wave of nausea, which had not been brought on by the sickness of being pregnant. She was carrying her dead husband's child in her weak womb. She began to worry with fierce intensity.

She would not survive the birth. She wouldn't be able to raise the baby and her first child because of her now weak womb, which was due to her having much trouble bringing her daughter into the world, and it had scarred her so that she wouldn't be able to survive another birth. She hadn't told her husband, and she told the midwife not to speak of it to him, for then what would she do?

Would she have told him he had to stay his desire for her merely because of a weak womb? She knew he had loved her with all his soul and that he would not put her in jeopardy if he had known about the danger of her becoming pregnant again, but she didn't want him to have to suffer for her.

She suddenly had the foolish thought that it would have healed, and maybe she really would survive the birth? But she could feel how weak she was, and how it would only get worse.

Ané miel began to cry. For her husband, for how angry she was at him for leaving herself and their daughter and their unborn child, for her own stupidity, and most of all for herself.

All the stress and worry she had been holding bottled up inside began to pour out as she heard her chamber door creak open. She turned to see her daughter holding a blanket and rubbing an eye with her fist. "Mamil?" the little girl mumbled, and yawned.

"Ai, Anariel!" her mother sighed. "Tul simen." come here she said. The child obeyed and followed her mother to the large, plush bed. "Why are you awake, my Tindó më ?" She cradled her daughter in her arms and covered them both with a blanket.

"When is Ada coming home?"

Her mother nearly choked, but recovered. "That is not what I asked." she said, with a sad look in her eyes.

"I heard a noise coming from your room. It sounded like when I broke the glass bowl that Elanwë put the peaches in for us to eat. Did you break a bowl too?"

Sure enough Anemiel looked over to the table where she had emptied her stomach in the basin, and saw, below it, a broken bottle that had been filled with liquid incense, broken with the contents spilled out on the cold floor. So that was why her room smelled so like her lovely white roses…

"I was clumsy." she replied, thankful that the incense had covered the smell of her vomit. "Now, I want you to sleep, my Tindomë." she said, and her daughter leaned against her.

"Mamil? Is Ada coming back to us?" Anariel asked. She was having trouble keeping her eyelids from closing, but wasn't succeeding.

Anemiel closed her eyes, blocking tear-fall, and she shook her head. "He is not." And even then her daughter was asleep.

She struggled through the birth, as she knew she would, screaming for help that couldn't come. "Come on, milady!" the midwife encouraged. "Just a bit more, I can see a dear, little head, thick with dark hair like your daughter's and yours. Push, now."

Anemiel shook her head, viciously. "I can't!" she cried, as another contraction hit.

A timid, young handmaiden was holding the laboring she-Elf's hand, or rather her hand was being crushed by the Elf-woman's strong, desperate grip. The girl ignored her aching hand, and dabbed a cold cloth on her mistress's forehead to wipe up the sweat beading there. "Milady, you must."

"Elanwë," Ané miel hissed, "don't not tell me I must try when I am doing my best to deliver a life into this world!"

"Stop that." the midwife snapped, suddenly. "Now, push!" The laboring she-Elf nodded, shaken; even in her time of terrible birthing pains she cowered against the tone in her late nanny's voice. She pushed as hard as she could and was rewarded with immediate relief as the child was free.

"Another beautiful girl, milady." the midwife said, very much pleased with her work. She mopped up the blood from the child and carefully handed the baby to her weak mother. Ané miel looked down at the infant in her arms and sighed in relief.

"…born at the twelfth hour," Elanwë mumbled to herself, as she stepped forward with parchment and a quill. "And what will you name her, milady?" she asked, still as shy and timid as ever, but she held a radiant smile at the good news.

She may have been a very quiet handmaiden, but she was loyal and wise, and she loved her mistress with the intensity of an adoring little sister. She looked up at the lady and her eyes widened at the sudden exhaustion the Elf-woman was showing.

"Milady?" she asked quietly, unsure if she should speak. Her mistress smiled, a secret one that kept those who had seen it to wonder if she were sane or not.

"Anarion."

The silence in the room after that simple word was deafening. Even the midwife had stopped cleaning the mess and looked up. The household had known for months that their mistress's husband had been killed, and to have her speak of the Elf's dearest friend at such a time, was a shock.

"Milady?" Elanwë took a step back, then another forward, unsure of what to do.

"I said her name is Anä rion. And yes, I understand how shocking it is. Naming her after Gil-Galad's dear friend. But now it is my second daughter's name. My husband would be proud." she said, almost dreamily, and she continued. "Her public name is Tindomerel, Elanwë. Remember to use only her public name when not around family or friends. Do you understand?"

The poor handmaiden shook her head, a frightened look marred her innocent eyes. "N-no I do not, lady. For you will raise your daughter."

Anemiel sighed, it being the only action she had the energy for. "Don't be a fool, Elanwë. You know that I am dying. I have accepted this; even embraced it." She looked towards the midwife and said, "Elanwë will write down all I have to say in my will as of this point," the young handmaiden took that as her cue and began writing down her mistress's words with practiced speed, "and you are witness to what I say."

The midwife looked shocked as she watched the scene play by, and her head began to works again. She merely nodded, too stunned for words, and kept a sane mind and ear open.

"Now," Anemiel said, "listen well. Elanwë will care for my daughters for a century. When that time comes, she will them to my dear friend in Rivendell. He will raise them there until they are old enough to take care of themselves. Then they may go where they will."

The dying she-Elf's time was running short, so she began to hurry. "Elanwë, I know you will do well, so fear not." she added, when she saw the look of uncertainty cloud over the young handmaiden's face, "This house shall belong to my daughters when they are old enough, but as soon as all written on this will is in it's place, all the servants and guards of this house are free to go."

"As for my daughters, tell my friend, Elrond of Rivendell, that their second names are Tindomë Anariel, and Tindomerel Anarion. The last will and testament of Anemiel, once High Queen of the…Elves of…" She never finished the sentence, but the two she-Elves knew what she was going to say.

Anemiel took a long, deep breath then, as if realizing a large weight was off her shoulders. Her death was welcomed, as she had finished what she had promised herself months before she would do before she allowed herself to die. Her daughters weren't going to be alone, for they had each other.

And, with that comforting thought, she passed away peacefully.

Well, review and tell me what you think so far. I have never read anything about Gil-Galad having a wife, or any children, so I made them up. He is a character from Tolkien's books that admire, even though there isn't all that much about him in them.

Thanks


	2. Namarie

Sorry about the names, if they are still messed up. My stupid computer won't let me use special characters, so- alas- I must suffer. Well, actually you guys do. Anyway, if you have any questions review.

So here me be…

Disclaimer: I own nothing of Tolkien's cuz he's the man-man.

…………………..

Ch.2

Elanwë guided her horse down the worn path towards Imladris. She constantly had to look back at her charges, ever the worrier. She had been told be Anariel that if she had once been s boulder she wouldn't be one anymore. She'd be a pebble.

The Elf-woman smiled to herself and tried to resist the urge to look back at the girls again. They made her worry so much…

_But what am I so frightened of?_ Elanwë thought to herself. _It's not like anything can happen to them when the entire household and all of the guards are leaving with us_

A high-pitched scream wailed from behind her, and she wheeled her horse expecting to see an orc arrow through her dear little girls' stomachs. She nearly choked when she saw that it was only Anariel, squealing at some joke one of the guardsmen told her. That girl was such the flirt…

Elanwë took on the look that she had seen her late mistress use on the girl when she had done something most unruly. "Anariel," she said, loud enough for the elfling to look over to her. That girl was such a headache…

"Yes?" she replied, her eyes wide and showing feigned innocence. Honestly, their guardian was such a ninny…

"Ride by me." Elanwë said simply, and the girl rode up quickly, causing the Elf-woman to wince. "Be careful," She held out a hand to steady the child's horse it slowed to a walk. "you have your sister with you, much to my protest."

"Ai, Elanwë you know Anarion won't ride with anyone else but me. Isn't that right?" Anariel, said to her back, where tiny arms clasped her waist tightly. No answer came, but their guardian could imagine the child's nod.

Elanwë smiled at them and observed their antics- or rather, Anariel's. Anarion had never been an active or talkative child. She rarely spoke, and tried to get around from having to answer questions as much as she could avoid it.

The girl worried her almost as much as Anariel. The younger of the two could always be found by her older sister's side, and she was a very mysterious child. When she was an toddler, she had always played with something that made some sort of noise. And as she grew into the body of a four year old, she still enjoyed things that made soft, sweet noises, but she, herself, had never spoken more than a sentence. Strange how she was silent but she enjoyed things that made a melody.

That was why Elanwë was giving both the girls' parting gifts. Ones that were useful and educative; it was just like her to give them something worth while.

The Elf-woman's thoughts turned to Anariel. Now that was headache she didn't lie exploring. The girl made up for her younger sister's lack of words with a whole fleet of them. She was often called the voice of Anarion, and it was a common joke among the household that Anariel had taken all of the conversing abilities in the womb, and the younger had been given only the necessities.

Elanwë was drawn from her musings as they made it over a rise. Rivendell lay in the cradle of the mountain, the tops of the spires and buildings shimmering with the last rays of the setting sun.

"Behold Imladris." she said, softly, as the elder sister cried out.

"Look, Anarion! It is Rivendell. This is where Mamil was once raised!" The little girl peeked around her sisters waist and her large eyes widened even more.

"Come, ladies." Elanwë said, in a strange, withdrawn tone. The sisters hadn't noticed.

"Yes, Lani!" Anariel exclaimed, and spurred her horse, causing their guardian to shout at her to slow down.

…………

They rode into Rivendell's main courtyard and pulled there horses to a stop. The girls and their guardian dismounted, while the rest of the band of Elves stayed where on their horses.

A tall, regal elf, with long, dark hair- much like the sisters'- appeared and stopped before Elanwë .

"I trust you had an uneventful journey?" he asked, in a warm tone. The she-Elf before him nodded.

"Yes, lord Elrond. The roads were fairly quiet this year."

"Good. Thank you for bringing them here. You know I could have sent for them." he said.

"No, no." Elanwë said, timidly, "I enjoyed the time with them." she smiled down at the sisters by her side and Elrond looked down on them with a warm smile as well. He took in their appearances as well: The older had her long dark hair pulled back in braids, and it left her soft face shine, as well as her big cheerful blue eyes. His smiled widened as he gazed at her; she was the image of her mother.

Next he tried to find the youngest, but she was hiding behind her sister. He, again, smiled, and looked back to the eldest.

"You must be lady Anariel." he said, warmly.

"I am. You must be my mother's friend. She used to tell me stories about you, and I told my sister. She is a bit shy, but I can tell her to meet you." Before Elrond could answer, she had turned to Anarion and whispered something. The little girl moved, reluctantly, from behind her sister, and looked up at him.

She had dark hair as well, but her face was different, and she looked more like her father than Anariel. When he realized the color of her eyes, Elrond smiled, despite himself: they were violet, a deep, mysterious color. He had a strange feeling as he felt her eyes, as though they could read his memories, and he was left a bit shaken.

Still, he smiled at her, and she allowed a small smile in return. The feeling of being read was gone from Elrond when she blinked.

"You must be Anarion." he said, fondly. She merely nodded, and returned to the safety of hiding behind her sister.

Elrond looked back at Elanwë and said, "I know this is going to be hard for you." he said. She nodded, and wiped a tear from her eye.

"Well, I must be on my way." she knelt down and hugged the girls.

"You will write?" Anariel asked, and their guardian nodded.

"Of course.

"I hope you have a wonderful life with your family. I am sorry you couldn't have gotten it sooner." Anariel said, sadly.

"Ai," Elanwë sighed, "Thank you. The tears she had been trying to hold back were falling free, and Anarion reached out to wipe one off her cheek. "Thank you, melamin." she said.

"Here." she muttered, and reached into the bag which she had brought. She pulled out a mithril flute and handed it to the eldest. "I want you to practice that every day. And your singing, as well." Anariel began to cry, quietly, and she nodded.

"Thank you."

Next Elanwë pulled a white-wood harp from the bag. "This is for you, Anarion. No need to tell you to practice. You will become the best harpist in Middle Earth." The little girl smiled and held the instrument, which was a bit large for her.

"I love you both." the she-Elf said, and pulled the two sisters into a hug. "Be safe, always."

"Namarië ." Anariel said.

"Namarië ." Elanwë replied. She stood and said her goodbyes and thanks to Elrond, then kissed to the girls one last time, and mounted her horse. Those of their pervious household said their quick goodbyes and be good's, then they, and Elanwë rode out of sight.

Elrond set his hands on the girls' shoulders, solemnly, and led them into his home.

…………..

The sisters never did receive any letters from Elanwë , for she and the group traveling with her was slain by a stray pack of orcs.

…………..

So, what did you think. Okay? Not Okay? I really don't care if you dislike it, but voice your opinion anyway.

Thanks


	3. The Sisters' haunting music

I would like it if you review, cuz I happen to actually enjoy writing this, and when I have a passion to write a story, it is a big thing. But thanks for the review from **lossendholiel greenleaf**, I appreciateit and congrats on being the first reviewerof this fic.

So here me be… 

Disclaimer: I can never be as great as Tolkien, and I don't own anything he has made, except my own characters. Why? Cuz he's the man-man.

………………..

Ch.3

A quiet she-Elf sat on the room's most comfortable couch. She had claimed it as her own years before, and there she played her harp until late in the night, when she was too tired to keep her eyes open any longer; then she would fall asleep on the couch.

True she had a perfectly nice bed, but she never used it. She preferred she sofa, where she could let the long days of her life pass by, with only her harp, and occasionally her sister for company.

Right then, she was playing her beloved instrument with perfect precision. Her nimble fingers plucked the worn, but tuned strings almost subconsciously to form a soft, sad melody.

And, standing before her, was her elder sister playing a mithril flute, as was their morning ritual. Play several songs together to keep their skills sharp, and then the elder would run off to wherever she pleased for the rest of the day. Then at night she would ask her little sister what she had done that day, and, as always, she received the simple answer of, "I've made a new song."

At the present, Anariel had once eye open, watching and listening for any flaws in her sisters playing. When she found none, she smiled against the flute to her lips and lowered it. "Ai, Anarion, why do you always want to play such depressing notes? It's a bother playing the slow tune when I want to play faster. Why do you like them so?" she eyed the she-Elf sitting on the over-stuffed couch, and smirked. "I want to know."

Her sister had ceased playing the harp and she had sat back from her position of leaning over it. Her dark eyes studied her elder sibling and she smiled back. "I enjoy them, because minor notes are much harder to create than majors."

Anariel sighed and nodded. "Well, before I go, I wanted to ask you if you knew why lord Elrond invited all our allied races here." As if to assure herself that they _were_ there, she leaned to the side and gazed down at the strange people milling about below their window.

Anarion looked up at her sister and said, carefully, "I believe they are here because of the hobbits."

Anariel turned back to her and said, "Or more specifically, your saying they are here because of Bilbo's nephew. The hobbit- Frodo, I believe- who came with the One Ring?"

They both shuddered at the thought of the terrible object, and they shared understanding gazes. Anarion arched an eyebrow and said, "Why did you wish to know? It seems you alreadydid, correct?"

Anariel smiled. "You don't miss anything, do you?"

"I miss plenty. I am merely observant." The younger replied, curtly.

Anariel grinned and studied her younger sister.The she-Slfhad grown to become lovely. But, the elder had to admit, she was fairer than Anarion.

It was likely because the younger never took pride in herself. Her hair was brushed and neat yes, but it was more out of cleanliness than outof the wish to be presentable. She never accented her looks, especially her body, for she always wore some sort of cloak or dress that draped over her shoulders, and so showed not many of her curves.

Anariel smiled, as she thought about the first time her sister had started amoon cycle. Anarionhad shrieked and cried that she was dying; very strange behavior for her. The elder would have thought it was some clever joke, but she knew her sister was deathly serious by the frightened look in her large, violet eyes.

Anarion noticed her sister's smile and asked about it. "Oh, nothing."Anariel replied as a knock came to their chamber door.

A maid appeared and she said, "Lord Elrond has invited you to the banquet tonight. He says to bring your instruments for later; the usual, miladys." She bowed and left, shutting the door behind her.

Anariel cried out and flopped down onto Anarion's couch, as the younger showed her annoyance; she wasprotective of her old, lumpy sof. However, she foundsmiled as well. "Oh, what luck! A banquet!" the elder exclaimed with great mirth. "It has been so boring and dreary for months, but now…!" she allowed the obvious to sink in, and she stood again, causing a depression in thecouch when she had once been sitting.

"Now, we will need to practice our best songs." she said, and laughed. "And," she continued, "I will have to braid your hair, Anarion."

With that, Anariel held her lovely mithril harp, her most prized material possession, and held to her lips, saying a song's name which she wanted to practice, "Vanima."

Anarion, glad to return to something that made sense, set her hands on the harp and began to play the soft, sweet song in a duet with her sister. She didn't understand or enjoy banquets, but she would always plug on through them to the end of the night to when she could play her harp before an audience.

…………….

Elrond and his daughter, Arwen, led the guests out of the dining hall and led them to the Hall of Fire. It was a room in which one could find peace, good conversation, and laughter; as long as it wasn't too loud or disturbed anyone.

In the Hall of Fire was where Legolas was listening to storis told by his fellow Elves. He listened with a half earto their words, and gazed around the room. He would be leaving with the Fellowship, once Elrond's scouts had returned. It could be months before that time, but it would be a fine opportunity for the Mirkwood prince to explore Rivendell and meet new people.

Suddenly a heavenly voice rang out through the room, by lord Elrond's permission of course, and it calmed the hearts and minds of all the occupants there. Legolas looked over by a fire and saw a she-Elf, clad in a billowy red dress, singing in perfect pitch. The fire flickered over her dark hair, and shimmered over the flute of some kind of silver in her hand. He was stunned by her voice, and so he listened to it until the elvish words faded out.

No applause was yet given, for a soft melody rang out across the Hall just as the singing was finished. Legolas looked down at the standing she-Elf's side, and saw another, seated on a stool. His sudden realization of her presence shocked him. Had she been there all along?

He watched her, with her eyes closed and strands of loose hair in her soft face. She wasn't as lovely as the first, not as fair, but she amazed him for no apparent reason except for the fact that she played her harp withstrong skill.

The first began to sing again, and her voice carried out over the Hall with a passion that she hadn't had before…

**Gil-Galad was an Elven-King.**

**Of him the harpers sadly sing.**

**The last whose realm was far and free, between the mountains and the sea.**

**His sword was long, his lance was keen.**

**His shining helm afar was seen.**

**The countless stars of Heaven's field, were mirrored in his silver shield.**

**But long ago he rode away;**

**And where he dwelleth none can say.**

**For into darkness fell his star, in Mordor where the shadows are.**

**When his presence fell away,**

**A love and heirs he left to stay.**

**His silver life was left to die, in Mordor where the shadows lie.**

Her solemn voice faded, and the silence in the room was so that one could drop a pin and it would have been heard. When the awe was complete, the two she-Elves were given enthusiastic applause. They bowed, and the two said their goodbyes; the fair ladyheaded to meet her friends, and the silent lady headed to the door, receiving approval from random people, and also from the few she knew.

Legolas found himself inclined to give his own thanks and praise to her, so he maneuvered his way through the crowd to follow. She took small steps, but she was swift, so he only made it to her as she was out the doors.

"My lady," he called, as she stopped and turned to see him. No one had ever followed to speak with her before…

"Y-yes?" she asked, a bit more than surprised, as Legolas stopped several paces from her.

"You played wonderfully, and I felt I needed to tell you so." he spoke to her truthfully, and he surprised himself at his bluntness.

To her further surprise, Anarion smiled at him. "Then thank you, milord." she said. Legolas found himself bubble with pride as she spoke his title, meaning she knew who he was. She had never met him, but she knew his name; hopefully, anyway.

"Thank you, lady." he said, "May I ask your name?" Anarion found herself shocked. He wanted to know her name? Why? No one ever asked for it, merely told her a quick word of praise and moved on their way.

"I…my name is…Anarion." She could hear here own scream in her head at her stupidity.** _Why didn't you tell him you second-name! Only your freinds and family can know!_**

Legolas didn't notice her sudden stiffness, and smiled. "That is a fairly unique name for a lady. Mine is Legolas."

No need for an explanation of her name? Why did she have a man's name?

She was surprised again. How many times had she been surprised that night? Too many to count…

"Well," she began. "I had best be on my way." He felt the need to ask why shewasn't goingtostay, but he held his tongue.

"Then I hope to see you again, lady Anarion."

"And you, milord." she replied, and bowed. Then she turned and left. Legolas watched her retreating back, then he returned to the Hall of Fire.

Anarion watched him leave from the safe side of a pillar. He was very strange, and he unnerved her to no end.** _But_,** she heard her mind say, **_you can say nothing of how strange a person is…_**

She gave up her musings and decided to run to her room, the only thing she enjoyed that gave her any exercise at all. She loved the feel of the air that collided with her face and arms, and as ran it's slender fingers through her hair she felt that she wasn't alone. Her harp, in it's case that hung off her shoulder, beat against her hip as she ran. It was the only comfort in her life, save for her sister and that big, lumpy couch she called hers. 

When she made it to the room she and her sister shared, she opened the door, and closed it behind. She made a beeline to her loveable couch and set her harp, protected in it's case, on the table beside it.

Anarion stretched her back, and flopped onto the couch asa wind blew the curtains of the windows. She watched them dance until she couldn't keep her eyes open any longer.

Hope you liked it. If not, then that's okay too. Just review and tell me, thanks. Aout the song, the first three verses are Tolkien's actual works, and i just added the fourth to go alongwith the story. Again, I take no credit for what he has done.


	4. The Suspicious Siblings

Alright. I hope this chic doesn't mind me saying her fic is frickin' awesome, but I have to say it. **Saltwater** a mary-sue hater (like me, even though there is some of it in this fic) has the most awesome story, a collection one-shots (even though if it's a collection of them, they ain't one-shots any more…uh, yeah, my bad). You should look into her fics. They rock.

So here me be…

Thanks to **Mariette**: Yeah, but I didn't think of anywhere else, so I decided to say Gil-Galad's wife was raised in Imladris. Thanks for the mithril flute bit. Try and imagine me making one…Hah, dangerous thought right there…

Thanks **lossendholiel** **greenleaf**: Thanks for you support. You've been great! Kudos for you!

Thanks **LunaFairy87**: Thanks for your kind words. It really mad me gush about how great I am, but then I remembered I ain't great at all. I'm actually a loozer! Hee hee…

Disclaimer: I own nothing of what the man-man( a.k.a. Tolkien) has made. If you haven't gotten it through your thick skull yet then your are…well, thick! (sorry, some in-kept anger seeped onto this computer screen cuz it hates me…I hope you didn't buy that stupid joke, then it wouldn't be a joke anymore…ner hur. I'm certainly a funny one)

…………..

Ch.4

…….

Anarion woke to see her sister's back. The elder she-Elf was standing at the window, drinking a warm mug of tea and watching Imladris wake. The younger sat up and yawned. Her hair was in tangles, and she knew it was as she yawned again and stretched her stiff legs over the edge of the couch.

She stood and walked, groggily, to her sister's side. Below their window afewdwarves were sharpening their axes, loudly. Clearly they didn't mind if they _happened_ to wake a few Elves from their sleep.

Anarion rubbed her eyes as she looked to her side to see her sister gazing through the steam of her mug, out towards the main courtyard.

"Something wrong?" the younger asked. Anariel smiled, sadly, and her gaze flickered to her sibling.

"The twins are leaving this morning." The depressed smile was still there.

Anarion nearly groaned, but suppressed it as she heard her sister sigh. It was obvious to all who saw, and unfortunately, Anarion was the one who saw it more than anyone: Anariel fancied Elladan.

Now, Anarion loved her sister beyond all, but her older sibling's childish crush of one Elrond's sons was annoying; absolutely, utterly annoying. "But they just returned last night." she said what her sister expected.

"Yes, I know." Anariel replied, sadly. "But they are their father's sons, in that they do what they are told. Elrond used to serve under Ada once. They were dear friends." she drabbled on. _Get to the point, sister…_"I hope to see them before they leave." Anariel finished; and by them, she meant Elladan.

"Of course." Anarion said, and left it at that.

…………..

The scouts were back. Months ago they had set out, and they were finally returning. The Fellowship had been established long before, as well, and now it was mid December. The Company would leave on the twenty-fifth, and at that time, they would be heading out to destroy the One Ring. It was old news, two months old to be exact.

Elladan and Elrohir's sudden return from the errand Elrond had sent them to take care had thrown Anariel into a fit. She was constantly rushing around fixing her hair. She had abandonedher favorite red gard, and wore simpler dresses of green.

Anarion rarely saw her sister the next week, for the elder she-Elf had skipped their morning ritual of playing instruments together, and instead she rushed off without a word. It had begun to make the younger feeling more melancholy than usual. She wasn't accustomed to having an entire day with out speaking to anyone but herself, and she had found that her harp brought no sympathy to such a plight.

….……..

Anarion had been feeling quite neglected when Elrohir asked to meet her in a garden. Elrond's cheerful son had nearly skipped into the yard when he immediately went to the depressed harpist seated on a bench.

He suddenly yanked the she-Elf to her feet and spun her around, causing her to slap him upside the head to put her backdown. "Ai! I know, I _know_, nauco!" he cried, but held fast.

"I am no dwarf, orku!" she cried, and boxed his ear again. Finally he set her on her feet, and stepped back. He understand her love and need of personal space over the years he had known her, and even though he occasionally broken that unsaid rule, he still respected it.

"And I am no goblin." he countered, and grinned at her.

"What do you want?" she said quietly, though her friend knew a grouch when he heard one; even if this one never showed enough emotion for a normal person to tell.

"Now why do you have to be so snappy?" Elrohir asked, and sat down on the bench.

"Because I am troubled by Anariel." she replied, softly, afraid she had said too much. Anarion saw the Elf's flash of a smile, and she allowed a small one of her own.

"What do you know?"

……………

Elrohir had told her to meet him at their table at the Fellowships farewell banquet, so she had nothing to do but agree. The night of the feast came, and she had to go to it alone, for Anariel had left earlier without much more said than, "See you soon."

Anarion entered the large dining hall and found her seat, not drawing any attention to herself. As she watched- without interest- the chatting occupants of the room, she searched for Elrohir. She needn't have, for the Elf appeared from behind, trying to surprise her; he failed.

She never understood how he was the best hunter in Rivendell, for he tip-toed louder than Elf she had everseen. "Good evening." she said, and he sat beside her, dejectedly.

"Another failed attempt to scare you." he muttered.

"Believe me, your face is enough to scare me." Elrohir had always brought out the worst in Anarion, since the first time he had given her a generous hug for no apparent reason. But she loved him like a brother, and she appreciated the occasional release of stress. She didn't mindreleasingiton him, becasuehe was always the best at throwing her mock-barbs right back at her.

"Well, as long as it can scare _you_away,I don't mind." he said.

"I'm still here."

"Yes but only until I tell you what I know." Elrohir said, and the she-Elf waited for him to speak. "Elladan has been disappearing since we have gotten back, and he returns late at night and won't tell me where he has been."

Anarion nodded. "The same with Anariel."

"They have been spending time together."

"I gathered." Anarion replied, resisting the urge to sound sarcastic. Elrohir looked past her suddenly and smirked.

"Look."

"Where?" Anarion turned to see Anariel and Elladan in each other's arms, dancing with the other couples. "Oh." she muttered to herself.

"Come on, let's go by them," Elrohir said and he caught her arm. Anarion shook her head, and watched as he smiled an understanding, and he left to speak with his friends who were wavingforhim to come.

Alone, the harpist finally breathed in the warm air and she began to feel lighted headed. She looked down at the table before her to clear her head and spotted someting ofbored-interest.What a clever napkin design.

"Attention," Anarion was drawn from her little napkin, and she looked up to see Elrond, standing in the middle of the room with Elladan and Anariel at his side. _No…Not now…I'm not ready…_

"Before we begin the feast I have an announcement…" 

……………..

Uh, oh. Guess what's gonna happen! (as if it isn't obvious…way ta go me…) I know Anarion was out of character during this chapter with Elrohir, but you have to understand that she only opened up to one person in allher years inImladris, and that was him.

Thanks

Review, Review, Review!


	5. A Friend to Console Her

Thanks for your support of this fic. I appreciate it. Short and sweet little A/N.

So here me be…

Disclaimer: I don't own anything the Man-man has created. Short and sweet…I hate stuff like that…

……………..

Ch.5

_Marriage!_ Anarion was out in the garden, currently throwing pebbles into the pond to dispel some of her frustration. She stopped when she realized her actions, and wondered how she had stooped so low as to hurl harmless stones into an equally harmless pond? What had they ever done to her?

She nearly shouted at the sky to further vent her anger, but she held herself. This was not how her father or mother would want her to act if they saw her now. Anarion's dear sister was getting married to Elladan, a good match in her opinion. But there was a problem.

What ever happened to Gil-Galad's daughters needing each other? What happened to Anarion's protective, loving, overbearing, older sister? When did Anariel start abandoning her younger sibling for love?

The frustration was too much for Anarion, so she collapsed onto a bench, hunched over and pitiful.

Suddenly she felt a warm coat over her shoulders and her head spun around so fast she though she heard it snap. "Ai, you frightened me, milord." she said, and took a shaky breath.

"You must like your privacy." Legolas said, and his smile froze on his face and turned down in a frown. "You are troubled." It wasn't a question.

Should she tell him about her sister? No, it was not her lot to dump problems of her own on someone else; especially with someone who has more immediate problems of his own. And besides, it was none of his business.

But it spilled out anyway…

"My-my sister is getting married." was all she said, as she held the cloak tighter to her shoulders.

"Is that such a terrible thing?" Legolas replied.

"No, it isn't. And I am very glad for her." Anarion would have yelled it, had she not been so practiced in holding her emotions. Why didn't he just go away?

But it didn't look like he would, for he sat down on the bench next to her. "But…?" She scowled at him inwardly and looked out over the pond.

"But she doesn't seem to notice how much I've missed her lately."

"Have you told her your feelings?"

Ha! She would have laughed at his accurate wording. She was the exact person who she wouldn't go to for words of advice, because words were exactly the problem. She wasn't ever going to enjoy words, and she never would. They were merely a necessity for communication; nothing more.

"I am not well with words." she replied, simply. Legolas seemed to understand, so he dropped the subject. _Good, take the hint and leave!_

They sat in silence for several moments, and Anarion felt the tension; well, the one-sided tension, anyway. He must enjoy company, for he simply sat with a soft smile on his lips, like he was laughing at some joke only he could hear. She looked down at the pond again and noticed a lily pad with a budding flower growing on top of it. _How quaint for you, you lucky flower…_

"You love her very much, do you not?" The sudden break of silence surprised Anarion and she jumped.

"What?" she asked, intelligently.

"You love her. Your sister," Legolas said, and watched her become uneasy under his gaze.

"Yes, I do." _Go away, you_

"I understand what you are going through. My cousin got married several years ago, and we were great friends until he met his future-wife."

Anarion was startled at his frankness. Why share such personal things with her?

_Because you went and spilled your life story to him, you ninny. That _is _what one would_ _call personal, correct?_

She smiled, despite herself. "Thank you, my lord. You have…helped me more than you know."

Legolas returned the smile and said. "What are friends for?"

Surprisingly, she didn't find herself shocked at his bluntness. It felt good to be called friend, she realized. She had few, but they had never once told her in words that she was indeed a friend. "Yes." she replied, and they shared an understanding look.

"Anarion? There you are!" The two Elves turned to see Anariel racing towards them. She snatched her younger sister's hand and pulled the stunned she-Elf to her feet. "Come, Lord Elrond wishes to see us."

Anariel hardly noticed Legolas, and gave him a half-hearted nod, then she pulled Anarion with her as she ran back towards the dining hall; the younger she-Elf sister silently thanking her.

Legolas watched the scene with amused eyes, and he laughed aloud when they had left. They made quite a sight, those two.

……………

The Fellowship left the next morning. All of Imladris was present to see them off; including the sisters. Truth be told, Anariel had to literally drag her younger sibling along, but in the end the eldest won again, saying Anarion would regret it if she didn't go.

The harpist longed for the comfort of her dear instrument, to transfer her anxiousness from her fingertips to the harp's wood; but she had left it behind. It was no foolish action, for who was to know she wouldn't stumble, and drop the instrument to the ground where it would shatter into scrap firewood?

Anariel, who was listening with a half-ear to Lord Elrond's of wisdom to the Company, turned to her sister. Anarion was busy watching a pebble, as though expecting it to shoot outa pair of feet and run away.

The youngerhad been thinking along the lines of that exact ludicrous thought, though she had been the lucky pebble.

"I think it is safe to say you are no social creature, my sister." Anariel said suddenly. Her sibling looked up with an expressionless gaze.

"Why do you bring me to such outings? You know how I dislike them." Anarion said, and looked out over the throng of Elves.

"That couch and your stupid harp are going to turn you to stone, sister, if you have not already." Anariel hissed, quietly. "You need to learn to be a living _being_, not a rotting corpse."

Anarion listened to her sister's lecture quietly. Elrond had finally said farewell to the Fellowship, andthey were reading to leave. Now was her chance…

"What is that you are carrying?" Anariel said, her hard tone gone as she eyed the velvet, tan cloth in her sibling's arms. She must have not realized that she had just stabbed her younger sister with harsh words moments before.

The younger was forced to look down at the cloak she held. "It is for a friend. I have to find them now, so excuse…" her voice trailed off as she saw Anariel spot Elladan.

"That is nice, sister. Have a good day." the eldest replied, then was off. At least she had announced she was leaving. Sort of…

Anarion spared a glance at her retreating sister's back, thenturned and found Legolas, who was pulling on his quiver of arrows. When he saw her, he inclined his head her way in hello.

"Here, my lord Legolas." she said, and extended his strange cloak. The Elf before her didn't take it, just smiled.

"Thank you. You've finally said my name,I see. I was beginning to think you were trying to insult me." he joked; she ignored him.

"I thought you would be needing your cloak, so I've brought it to you." Again, she held out the bundle to him, and, again, he neglected to take it.

"I hope to see you again, someday. You are a friend I would like to know better, but it seems that will have to wait."

Anarion hardly heard him, and pressed the cloak to his chest. "Will you stop ignoring it?" she said, miffed. He did love his words…

"I must be going, Anarion." he said, "Namarië ." Legolas gave one final grin, and handed back the bundle at his chest. "I have another with me, and that one is just for show."

"It is an ugly cloak." she countered, dully.

"Then it is for you to have, if you want me to be blunt about it." he replied. She narrowed her eyes at him.

"You are a strange one." she said, before she could catch herself.

"So I have been told." he said, and bowed his head to her. Anarion sighed took thesimple thread bracelet off of her wrist.

"Here. Since _you_ will not give take back your cloak, you may take this from me." Legolas took it and grinned. "Thank you." He tied it around his bow, and nodded to her. "Namarië , nya mellon." farewell, my friend.> he said finally and turned away, as she did the same.

Anarion stayed in the courtyard only long enough to watch the Company depart, then she headed to the main garden.

Not surprisingly, it was empty of occupants, and soshe found herself a bench near the pond and watched it with unseeing eyes. She took a deep breath, to steady her blood, and smiled in victory. _He is gone!_

She couldn't believe how much relief and weight was lifted from her shoulders as soon as he left her sight; likely for good. Now she could return to her music and her peaceful, normal days.

Yet when she returned to her room, she hadn't discarded Legolas' cloak. She had taken it to her couch, pulled it over her head, and played her harp, enjoying the way this particular cloak had no sleeves to get in the way of her quick fingers.

………………

Thank you, thank you. I wasn't expecting to write such a stupid near-sue with Legolas and Anarion. so forgive me. **Please review and tell me if that was too much.** Ugh, now my room is covered with fluffy things that keep flashing big eyes, and saying, "you are a mary-sue author, ha ha!" I will take a blowtorch to them now…

Thanks


	6. Bitterly Alone

Thanks for the feed-back! Love ya!

So here me be…

Disclaimer: Get this: I-own-nothing-of the-Man-man. There.

………….

Mid February, 3019, by Shire reckoning

It has been a most dreary winter. I was beginning to grow weary of my beloved couch- having spent most of my time here- so a week ago I decided to take one of the horses out to give it some exercise; at least, that had been my excuse to my poor sofa.

I have been using the same horse- a gray stallion- since I had taken up my sudden fancy to ride, and he has been most agreeable. Save for one incident after an outing when he wanted his carrot and I neglected to give it to him. Then he had left the stable to follow me and claim it; he had been scared out of my wits. But for more pressing matters…

The twins had left on another errand of Elrond's, and since then my sister has been as melancholy as a storm cloud and as snappy as a wolf. My days are growing longer without her usual chatter.

I have discovered that Arwen is somewhat like Anariel, in that she helps the hours pass by. Elrond's daughter has been just as saddened as my sister, and- in my opinion- she has far more to worry for than Anariel. Arwen despairs for her mortal love, Estel- that is what the Elves call him here in Imladris- and she fears she will never see him again; I don't blame her.

…………………

March 3, 3019, by Shire reckoning

We have gotten word of the Fellowship: it has been broken. There was a bit of news, and most others probably weren't as interested in it as I had been, but it was, nonetheless, good news: Legolas lives and is still fighting in this war. I hope that no one ever reads this, but the Valar protect him…

………………….

May 1, 3019, by Shire reckoning

Word has reached Imladris; a good word. The Ring has been destroyed! We are free of it's evil at long last! My sister's mood has lightened lately, and when I asked her what had pleased her so, and she told me the most ludicrous idea I had ever heard: she has asked lord Elrond to accompany Arwen and himself to Gondor, where Estel has been crowned king- or Elessar, I should say now.

Surprisingly, Elrond has agreed. Of course, that means I am to tag along as well. I find all of this absolutely ridiculous, but I also find this _adventure-_ as it is- a very welcome relief from my boring days.

So, with lord Elrond's approval, my sister and I will travel to Gondor with he and his daughter.

………………

June 14, 3019, by Shire reckoning

We have met up with Elrond's sons near Rohan, and they will be traveling with us the rest of the way to Gondor; Anariel is ecstatic. I find myself excited now, for no apparent reason that I can think of. But all I can do is stay on my tall, gray stallion and be sure the bag at my side is still holding my precious harp.

………………

Mid-year's Day

In Gondor now. Elessar and Arwen married today, and I have met up with Legolas and his friend; a dwarf. If I was a judgmental woman I would have scoffed at the short creature. But I wasn't, so held my tongue; it has been getting away from me of late.

We were left alone in the courtyard of the White tree- except for several mortals- and when I saw his face up close, I had seen how his eyes had aged. They held shadows in them, and I was surprised to find myself worried.

However, no matter what ghosts haunted him he still had a smile for me…

………………..

Anarion returned his smile with ease. "My lord Legolas, it's wonderful to see you again."

"And you, nya mellon." he replied, and pulled her into a hug. If she had been surprised before…

Shocked by his bluntness she became stiff and rigid. No one had ever hugged her before, save her sister, Elrohir, and Elanwë- who was long dead.

Legolas drew back and looked at her face. That haunted look was back…

"Ai," he breathed. "I have dreamed of your face." He said it so tenderly, and yet so fiercely, that she felt heat rush to her cheeks and ears.

"You have?"

"Yes. I've missed you, Anarion. Everyday I haveremembered you," How she disliked his frank words.

"I…believe I've missed you as well. No one can shock me as you can, I'm afraid."

Legolas nodded and suddenly looked a bit strange, almost fidgety. "Anarion, they say love can be realized in the blink of an eye, and during this war I have found that to be true…"

_Good, Eru! You aren't in love with that dwarf?_

"…I believe that it is you. I cannot forget your face. You were always in the back of my mind, whether in a battle, or on the edge of sleep."

_No…_

"I am falling in love with you, Anarion." he finished. She was so thankful they were alone by the White Tree with only several oblivious passer-byers or she would have died of shock and fear.

"I- how can you possibly love me? You don't know me!" She cried frantically. "We are friends, not lovers!"

"I know, it makes no sense at all, but it shouldn't have too!" he countered. Anarion was shaking with panic. She didn't want change, and she didn't want love!

"Legolas, stop! I can't

"Please see it, Anarion!" He set his hands n her shoulders and tried to reason with her. Did she have to be so stubborn? Perfect of him to chose a difficult one…

"No, you see it!" she snapped; angry. "All my life I have needed no one but myself and my sister. I no longer need her and she has made it clear that she doesn't need me, either." Tears stung her eyes, but she blinked them away. "You will see that I should be with no one, and it would be best for you if you forgot my name and especially my face!"

"Anarion," Legolas whispered, "don't say that…"

"Legolas, please." she whimpered. "Let me go…" He sighed, suddenly, and released her.The Elflooked calm, but she new he must have fighting not to shake, for his jaw was locked and he was rigid.

"Forgive me. I was foolish to believe you might havereturned my feelings…"

"Legolas, that isn't what I

"You may not think you need anyone now, Anarion," he continued, "but you know you can't be alone forever. No one can; not without going mad. Namarië, nya mellon. I _do_ hope to see you again, and when that day comes, I hope you are not alone."

And he turned and walked away.

"Legolas!" she cried after him, but he kept his retreating back to her. When he left her sight, she suddenly felt alone. Bitterly, utterly, completely alone. She had never tasted the feeling with such harsh coldness before, and now she regretted her words withterrible remorse. _What have I done?…_

………………..

Ah, they broke up. Err, even though they were never together to begin with…eh he…

**Review**! I know that was waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay too much fluff, and lovey dovey crap on Legolas' part, but hey, just ignore it. Or not...but I need feed back guys!


	7. Grief and Guilt

Same old, same old.

Disclaimer: I-don't-own-anything-the-Man-man-had invented. Ha-ha.

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Ch.7

S.R. 1438, Spring

It has been years since I last saw Legolas and we parted due to my rejection of his love. I regretted my harsh words, and a day did not pass when I hadn't gone over the cruel meeting inmy mind; I-frankly- was a horrible to him. But I had not loved him; I barely tolerated him. But I did care about the Elf, and though I still wanted his friendship, I knew it would be in vain to try and start over. How can two continue a friendly relationship when the tension of rejected love is ever in the air?

Well, after mine and Legolas' parting, Elrond, his sons, and my sister and I left the White City and we returned to Imladris. Anariel and Elladan were soon married, and she left our old chambers to stay in his. I must say I welcomed my own room; it was getting tedious to listen to her ravings of love and marriage…

I was hardly surprised when Anariel came to me several months later, saying she was with-child. It was a bit untraditional for an Elven couple to be having children so early on in their union, but- then again- my kindred were fast leaving this Middle Earth, and so it mattered not.

At the time, I was readying to depart for a year to reside in Caras Galathon, before the people of that once-great city would depart for Valinor. But when my sister had come to me- saying she was having my niece or nephew and that she wished for me to stay- I could not bear to leave her side. And so I did not leave to walk under the leaves of Lorien.

Anariel went into labor during a feast. She normally wouldn't have sat among company with a pregnant belly, but she had realized early on the attention it handed her, andso couldn't pass up the invitation.

I had no experience with childbirth, being weak around such happenings, and so when her "water broke"- as the midwives say- I had thought she spilled her drink into her lap. It wouldn't have surprised me, for she had been so clumsy during her pregnancy: always tipping vases with her enlarged belly, tripping over her own feet, and scaring myself and her husband to our wit's ends. I am ashamed to say that I found all the incidents hilarious after the danger had passed…

Anariel's labor was long and difficult, and though I could not be in the same room as she- because, as I said, I had a light stomach for such things, most of all blood- I could hear her cries from the nextroom.

She was struggling with the birth like our Mamil had once done with the two of us, and I foolishly began to fear for my own possible births yet to come-though I doubted that it would ever become a reality with my personality as glacial as it was…

When I voiced my worries of my sister and myself to a passing midwife the woman began laughing as though I had just spoken a joke, 'Milady,' she had said, 'you need not worry about your sister; she will survive the birth. And you certainly should not worry about your own skin, for you have hips, unlike your sister. That is why the lady is having such difficulty with her labors.'

When I explained that I had not the slightest idea of what she meant about _hips_, she laughed again. 'You have nice and round hips. Unlike your sisters. Rounder hips cause simpler births.' That dearly frightened me, and after that conversation I steered clear of any male for years.

Thankfully, the midwife hadbeentrue to her word. Anariel birthed- not one, but _two_ infants- with little harm. The babes were a sight I will never forget; I had a nephew, Aratan, and a niece, Aniron. The boy had dark hair like his parents, but the girl had fair hair, from my father, Gil-Galad, as the songssay.

I was so thankful to my sisterthatI forgave her of all my dark thoughts the moment she told the midwives I was to hold her dear, infant twins first.

………………

S.R. 1438, Winter

A horrible record I am about to begin, but it must be written…

My sister's husband, Elladan, has been killed. He died during an accident in Rohan, were he and his brother were delivering a message. Some fool of a mortal had shot the stray arrow and it hit my brother-in-law's horse. The dead beast instantly fell and crushed Elladan's lungs; he died minutes after they removed the animal from his body. Elrohir said to methat his brother's last words were for myself and his brother to care for my sister and her children. Then he passed.

Anariel is inconsolable and she has begun to resemble the person I once was; a wandering shell disconcerned with the lives around her. Nothing could pull her from her grief, not even the cries or laughter of her children. Nor myself and my pleas.

She must have known her time was shortening, for when I entered her chambers- to try to persuade her to eat- she handed me an envelope and gazed up at me with eyes devoid of her former self.

'Take that,' she had said. 'Elanwë gave it to me long ago, and it's about time you saw it. She gave it to me before we left our old home.' I didn't care about the blasted envelope, so I discarded it on a nearby table. Her time was nearing more quickly now, and she began to brabble on.

'My flute,' she had muttered in a last request, and I turned to the nightstand beside her bed. The neglected instrument lay covered in dust atop it, and I picked the thing up and subconsciously inspected it with a critical eye. It was a terrible thing to witness a musician too drawn and ragged in her heart and soul to play her beloved instrument.

If I had known that when I turned back to set the flute in Anariel's fingers and she would be dead, I would have stared at the instrument for all of eternity…

……

The remainder of winter held me fast in it's cold air after we buried my sister in her tomb. Ibegan tosit lifelessly whereverI was; stillwearing my black dress of mourning and covered pitifully in Legolas' cloak. The season moved drearily on, and I mourned privately for my dear Anariel.

I wasquite ready to die myself, and I began to curse my sister for leaving me alone and without purpose. Normally an Elf would have wished to leave to Valinor at such a time; to witness the great sea…

Yet at that point in my life, I wanted never to see them more passionately than any of my race before me.

But I rememberhow mysalvation came as clearly as if it had happened not a hour ago…

I had been seated in some garden, my harp and my sister's flute lying in my lap collecting dust- I don't remember how long I had been there. I was growing too thin, and my skin had become too pale; like snow.

It was then that my niece, Aniron- merely a toddler- tottered into the garden to see me. She had just begun walking, and though she was still learning, she could easily wander from her inexperienced uncle Elrohir's care and find me;I suppose sheenjoyed my company more forI resembled her mother.

She was eager to reach my legs, and when she found them she fell at my feet, roaring with laughter. Her shrills sent me from my reverie and I remember looking down as she pulled herself up and grabbed one of my fingers in her own, then began to chew on it. I felt nothing for a moment; absolutely nothing.

Then, when she had tired of my lifeless finger and reached for her dead mother's flute, I began to weep with shame. My guilt of the neglecting of my sister's children stabbed at my stomach and threatened to have me empty it.

I had turned from my niece and nephew to grieve for Anariel, when Elrond and Elrohir hadn't given a moments thought for their own woes and took up the care of the children as I should have done.

'Ai, Aniron,' I had muttered, 'forgive me, melamin.' I pulled my neice into my arms and held her for a long while before I moved and brought her back inside.

I remember, vividly, the fit of laughter I received for my words. I took the outburst as forgiveness, and I from then on, I never allowed my sister's children to stray from my sight for long.

………………

So? Review and tell me what you thought. Whether it be bad or good, I don't care.

Thanks


	8. Leaving Imladris for the Last Time

So here me be…

Disclaimer: You know the drill. I am not the Man-man and I take no credit for his works. Ever.

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Ch.8

S.R. 1538, Spring

Anarion sat in some garden, playing a cheerful tune on her harp. She had been playing more merry notes, of late, due to a request from her niece.

Imladris had grown quiet, and many- nearly all- of the Elves that had once resided there had left for the Grey Havens, and then on to Valinor and it's white shores. The days were long and without occurrence in Rivendell, and it had Aratan, son of Elladan, and Anrion Lomë -Lí re, were constantly getting into trouble.

Still the twins were loved dearly by their small family, which consisted only of their loving aunt Anarion, energetic uncle Elrohir, and their wise, old grandfather. In age the children were well over one hundred years, but in body they looked to be no more than the tender age of nine.

Anarion kept playing her harp, even as she heard the soft, sure footfalls of her nephew. He appeared moments later and stopped before her, not moving or speaking, but clearly holding in his excitement.

Anarion set down her harp and looked up at the elfling. He was fairly tall for his age, and his hair was in tangles from running, but his eyes were clear and violet as her own. "Are you not supposed to be with your uncle, Aratan?" she asked, sternly.

The boy's face took on a quick look of one who had gotten caught with his hand in a pie, but he shook it away. "I am, but grandfather wants to speak to you, Auntie." He said, proudly. He had always admired Elrond, and he was overjoyed when he could run a errand for the elder Elf.

Anarion nodded and sent the boy on his way, then headed to Elrond's study. She found him standing behind his desk, ready a letter, and he wordlessly held another out to her. She took it, and read who the sender was. "Arwen?" she asked the elder, and he nodded.

"Yes. A ship is being planned in Ithilien, and she wishes for you to stay in Gondor until it is begun."

"A ship?" Anarion repeated. "A ship to…?"

"To send you and the Elves there to Valinor." Elrond replied, and returned to his own letter, thoughtfully.

The she-Elf before him was speechless, and she nearly gasped. "To Valinor?" she said aloud, and sat in a chair behind her.

At the incredulous tone of her voice had the elder looked up. "You are surprised, Anarion?" She didn't reply, but looked out the window to the empty haven of Imladris. "You have been alive since Isildur passed away, yet you still wish to see more of Middle Earth? I would have thought you would be most eager to leave?"

Anarion looked back at him and shook her head. "I have been here nearly my entire life, Elrond. Of course I want to stay in Middle Earth. I haven't grown weary of these lands yet."

"But you will see plenty in the next few years to satisfy your curiosity. I believe you will have grown weary Middle Earth by the time you must leave, and you will wish to see the wonders of your true home. The one that awaits you in Valinor." Elrond said, and the harpist shook her head.

"And what of the children? I won't leave them."

"I have thought of that, too, and the answer is simple: they are leaving with you." Anarion was shocked at the Elf's words.

"But they are too young!" she cried, and shot out of the chair. "They haven't yet seen enough of these lands, and I will not take them to another."

Elrond shook his head. "You have to take them. Where else can they stay? I will not have them raised in Imladris, where it is merely a ghost of it's former splendor. There is nothing for them here. In a few years I believe I will be the only one left here."

"I won't take them from their home, Elrond." she said, on a last attempt to change his mind.

"Then you would have them despair? Their hearts may be young, but they wish to see the vastness of the sea. You can give them that by taking them to Ithilien when the ship is complete."

He had a point. She didn't want to agree, but he did have a point. Anarion took a deep, frustrated breath and looked out over Imladris again. "I will miss this place." she muttered, and Elrond laughed.

"Of course you will. It has been your home for a long time."

Anarion nodded, and looked up at her once-guardian. "Thank you, Elrond. Not just for your words."

"Your father was my mentor and also a great friend. I am honored to have known his daughters." He bowed his head, and she returned the gesture.

"I suppose I should pack." she said, simply, and he smiled.

"Arwen wrote that Elessar could send for some escorts, but there are several here that I can send with you. They wish to leave to Valinor, and this is the perfect time."

"Right. I will see you tomorrow morning." she said, and left the study.

oooooooooooo

Anarion had lied to Elrond when she said she did not wish to see the crisp, salty waters of the sea, and when the day came for herself and her sister's children to leave Imladris for Gondor, she was excited.

The three Elves said their goodbyes to Elrond and Elrohir, and- with the six escorts Elrond had given them- they left their home and headed for the White City.

oooooooooooo

S.R. 5038 Autumn

I feel it safe to write that I was at my wit's end by the third week of travel. Aratan had chosen to try both mine and his sister's patience.

He was constantly tossing insects and twigs at Aniron and she returned the assaults in kind by putting pinecones into his boots and thorns in his bed.

Yet, I suppose their endless pranks kept each other sane, and though I discouraged such activity, I suppose it kept me sane as well.

The six escorts Elrond had sent with us we proving to be more difficult to have than be without. Especially one particular Elf, Roquen. His advances to me are getting more than just merely annoying; at one point I considered using the reins of my horse to strangle him.

I shamed myself for such thoughts, but only until he began touching my shoulder, or trying to hold my hand when he spoke; then I considered _accidentally_ tripping into him, and causing him fall into the fire. The twins would have seen right through my supposed accident, and what's worse...they would have been proud.

ooooooooooooo

There you are, please review.


	9. Run

Thanks for the reviews! I received one that asked if Legolas still loved Anarion (one of many questions, mind you) and they made an excellent point: why did Legolas fall for her anyway? For example- she was never kind to him and they only met three times.

Hm. Very, very true. I happen to think my character Anarion was a bitch, and still is- as you can tell. She is always strict with her (sister's) children, and she seems very prejudice. A non-social butterfly if you will.

Please bare with me, people, I have this thing planned out (most of it anyway). I will say this about her: Anarion is a sensitive person as you have read in her records and even in the third-person sections. Her only defense of protecting her heart and sanity (she doesn't have much...hee hee) is to push away others from getting too close, save for the few people she actually trusts enough to care for (Elrohir, Arwen, Elrond, and the kids). It's not that she hates and fears love and Legolas, it is that she just doesn't trust the two put together.

So here me be...

Disclaimer: Don't own anything the Man-man has created in that brilliant head he had. God bless Tolkien.

Ch.9

oooooooooooos

S.R. 5039 Early Spring

The small band of Elves stopped to give their horses a rest and to eat a bit of waybread. The twins wished to give their horses some water in a nearby river, and so Anarion agreed. She decided to go with them, to get away from the others, but- unfortunately- they had an escort to follow.

Roquen, the self-appointed leader of their group, was never far from the family of three- especially the young aunt. He was the Elf who followed to the river to be sure the surrounding area had no danger.

Aratan scowled as they walked and looked behind to see Roquen gazing at the back of Anarion. _Thank Eru auntie is wearing thatstrange, oldcloak,_ Aratan thought,_ or I would fear his eyes were moving lower than isproper..._

The elfling huffed and continued walking his horse to the river, occasionally sending glares to Roquen. Once they got there, their escort left to search for the supposed dangers and left the family to themselves.

Aratan took watched the Elf disappear into the trees, then his eyes snapped to his aunt and sister. "I don't like him." he said, stiffly.

Aniron scoffed and rolled her eyes at her twin. "I do not understand why you dislike anyone who is curious about our aunt." Her eyes turned dreamy and she looked up at Anarion. "You need to find a husband, then those nosy fools like Roquen can disappear forever."

The harpist shook her head, and brushed her gray horse's shoulder. "Then what would my husband say about the care of you and your brother? Would he not want my time as well?"

"Of course, but I am willing to sacrifice for love." Aniron said, and pointed at her aunt. "You should too." That stung more than it should have.

"I happen to find my current marital status quite agreeable." Anarion said, trying to cover her unease at the advice.

Aniron sighed, as Aratan laughed. "Auntie I suppose we are a blessing in disguise, for if any man sees you, then sees us and our resemblance to you, they will stray far from your side."

"Or it is a curse." Aniron said, tightly, as her twin began to laugh even more. "I wonder if Aunt Nari has ever loved?" I was a question directed to the harpist, of course.

Anarion smiled and said, "Once. But nothing ever came from it. We- I was wrong for him."

Aniron's eyes widened, and she was about to speak, but Aratan interrupted by getting on his horse and spoke. "Auntie, may I go for a ride?" he asked. "I promise to be back in ten minutes."

The elder eyed him carefully. "You have your knife? Your bow? Then be back in exactly ten minutes."

"Will do, Auntie." he called over his shoulder, as his horse reared and bolted into the woods.

"He is such a pansy." Aniron said to her horse, hotley. The white beast snorted her agreement.

Oooooooooooo

An hour later neither Aratan nor Roquen returned. The sun was setting at great speed, and not even the other five Elves traveling with them appeared. The two she-Elves waited at the river for their companions, and as they waited, they felt the chills of disaster shooting up their spines; something was wrong.

Anarion grew beyond merely worried to absolutely terrified. With her patience gone, she told her niece to get on her horse; they were going to find Aratan.

Her nephew was many things, but he did not disobey his elders- especially his aunt- and that was likely why they feared for his well-being so.

The two rode around the surrounding forest until the last few minutes of light were fading. They circled back to the river, with the notion to set up camp, but they forgot that plan when they saw Aratan seated peacefully on a rock near the river.

"Aratan!" Aniron shouted as she and her aunt rode up. Anarion dismounted and stepped over to him. Anger was flashing in her eyes, and she felt terrible relief bursting in her blood, giving her the desire to empty her stomach.

"Where have you been? Do you know how much we worried?" She nearly shouted it. Anarion was shocked that her nephew did not shoot up and say some excuse; he merely sat completely still.

"Aratan, answer me right this..." Her voice faded as she saw how tightly he clutched his leg, shaking. Was that blood? No, no it must be water. "Aratan?" she said, quietly.

Aniron raced forward and shouted at her brother. "You great idiot! We searched high and low for you, but now you are just going to sit there and say nothing...?" She, too, stopped speaking.

In a voice that was not his own, Aratan spoke. "My horse was attacked. He is dead." Now he turned to his sister and aunt with eyes that scared them to their very bones. "They were too busy with my horse to chase me, but they will return. We have to leave."

Aniron found her voice first. "W-we are not leaving the others. And who killed your horse?" She may have sounded calm, but she didn't look it.

"Aniron," Anarion said, as she stepped up to inspect her nephew's leg. "Get my horse and mount your own."

"What? You are just going to leave the others here?"

"Now, Aniron!" Her aunt's tone was quick and frightened. The Elven-girl had never heard her aunt speak like that before, with such terror. It surely terrified Aniron.

With her niece fetching the two horses, Anarion wrapped Aratan's arm around her neck and helped him stand on his good leg. "Come, Niqui." she said, and her gray horse trotted forward and kneeled. As an Elven-bred horse, he knew many things, so when he saw the scene he did what his instincts told him: kneel to aid the injured.

With her nephew on her horse's back, she helped the beast get to his feet, and she readied to pull herself up. Aniron suddenly cried out from the back of her mare and Anarion turned to look at her niece who was pointing into the trees behind her.

Anarion followed her niece's finger and- in the bushes- she saw amber eyes glowing at them, like a wolf's. She felt like freezing as a deer might, but instead she pulled herself into the saddle, slowly, and wrapped her arms around Aratan to hold the reins; all the while she held the creature's gaze.

She didn't know many things about the wilds and the animals in it, but she did know one thing: never turn your back to a wild predator, and never be swift in your movements. Anarion was glad for their horse's intelligence, or they surely would have bolted and have them killed.

"Keep the horses turned towards the beast in the trees until the last possible moment, Aniron." Her niece looked like a petrified rabbit, but when she heard her aunt speak, she nodded and followed Anarion's instructions.

The creature was inching out of the bushes now, and it knew they were going to run; but that didn't matter, as long as they could make the flight.

The horses snorted to keep the creature at bay for several moments more, but it hardly helped. The night was dark, but thanks to their keen eyes the two she-Elves saw that the animal was almost as large as a man and was covered in fur; it was also crouching to attack.

"Run." Anarion whispered in Elvish, and the horses bolted into the trees.

Oooooooooooo

Uh-oh. Cliffie. I'll get the next chapter out as soon as possible, alright? Any questions, just write a review please. Any flames, good job's, or comments send them my way.

Thanks.


	10. Race for Gondor

Hey, thanks for the reviews. They are getting a bit more helpful now.

Disclaimer: You know the drill.

…………….

Ch. 10

S.R. 5039, Spring

They lost the beast by crossing a swollen river, and- thankfully- it did not pursue any further. Anarion thanked Eru for the kind blessing.

During the first few days of riding through most of the day and all of the night, Aratan had fallen from barely awake, to completely unconscious. His wound, though wrapped as best as could be done on the road, did not cease it's bleeding, and Anarion was fearing for her nephew'slife.

They were still several days from making it to the borders of Gondor, but it would be a small victory, as they still had to get to Minas Tirith, and that would take several days more.

Aniron was as solemn and silent as stone during the journey, but she always aided her aunt when they stopped to rest themselves and the horses. The young elfling was pale with fright of losing her brother, but she didn't once cry while they were riding or helping Aratan. Though Anarion did hold the weeping Elf-girl in her arms while the injured boy slept.

One the third day, they crossed into Gondor, but that afternoonAratan began to spit up blood, andthe wound in his leg was festering. They didn't have much time.

……………

S.R. 5039, Summer

When we reached Minas Tirith the gates were opened and Aniron and I raced our exhausted horses up the seven levels of the city to the very top, where the throne hall and the courtyard of the White Tree was.

I shouted at the guards there. "We have an injured boy!" The men raced to us and they took Aratan from my arms. As several of them carried my nephew to the House of Healing I suddenly felt the strain of the past week, and it weighted heavily on me.

I looked over to Aniron, who was pale and she was near faintingas a guard pulled her from her horse's back.

"Milady," I heard, and looked down at my own horse's side, where a familiar face held my gaze; the ranger Faramir, whom I had met once before at Elessar and Arwen's wedding.

At my exhausted appearance it seemed what he was going to askhe hadforgotten, and instead said, "You are very pale, lady. You need rest."

"No, send for the queen. I must see her before I can sleep." I replied, then Faramir nodded and rushed off, as I was pulled from my horse into the arms of two guards.

Now, my mind was working to see Arwen, but my body would not agree. So, I collapsed.

………………

S.R. 5039, Autumn

Aratan survived, thank Eru, but his leg will forever be weakened. He can still use it, but it can only hold him for several minutes before he falls to his knees or has to lean on his good leg.

Several weeks after he regained enough strength to stand, Arwen, her girls, and Aniron and I took him for a walk about the White Tree courtyard. The petals of the tree were falling now, and the girls found a full one to set in Aratan's hair. He, as a young male, did not tolerate it, and so stuck the flower in his mouth and cause the desired effect; Aniron and Arwen's daughters cried out in disgust, later claiming that the dear dying blooms should not have to go into his nasty throat.

As Aratan grew tired Arwen and I set him on the bench beneath the White Tree. Though my nephew was young, he was definitely a flatter. He instantly loved Arwen's daughters like his own dear sister, and the five of them were inseparable, even though he was the only boy in a group of four girls, including Aniron.

As he began to tell the girls his story of how bravely he ran from the vicious beasts that gave him the wound on his leg, a man appeared with a long bundle under his arm. This was not unusual for anyone coming to the top level, for Elessar dealt with affairs of state everyday, and so we ignored him.

However, when the man saw us, he wandered up, and bowed to Arwen and myself. "My queen, my lady," he had said to us and kneeled. He held out the bundle under his arm, and extended it to me.

"King Elessar spoke to me several days ago, and asked if I would make this for your nephew, lady." he had said, and I took the cloth-wrapped object from his hands. It was fairly long, and I wondered what it could be.

"Thank you," I said, "but my nephew, Aratan, is here. I would have him give you his thanks in person."

The man nodded and Arwen bade him to stand. He seemed fidgety to me, and I was curious about it. Later I learned that men and women were awed by Arwen's beauty, for though she gave her immortality to live with Elessar, she had not aged a day, save for her eyes, asnd thus mortals, usually men, were nervous around her.

My nephew hobbled forward, using Aniron to lean on for support, and looked up at the man. "The king asked you to make this?" he asked, as I handed him the bundle.

"Yes, young master," the man said, "he believed it would come in handy."

Aratan, curious to a fault, nearly tore at the package, and once the cloth was gone, he stared in awe at the long white walking stick. It had Gondorian designs yes, but he loved it the first moment he saw it.

Aratan looked up with tear-filling eyes, and bowed his head to the man before him. "Thank you, sir. This means much to me."

After that, Aratan was winning footraces with his sister and cousins- as we called Arwen's children- and he had to never use help from anyone again. It was as if his pride was returned. And also after that day he was as unruly as ever once again.

…………………

S.R. 5040, Winter, near Spring. The New Year has passed.

The builder of the ship in Ithilien is coming to visit Elessar soon, for I am told they are old friends. I suppose I should speak to him- the shipbuilder- so myself andthe twinsare familiar with him when we leave Gondor for Ithilien.

Aratan has been getting rather tedious of late. Several months ago he was content to play with the young boys. But now that his leg is much stronger, he wishes to train with the men.

When I asked him what he would train for, I felt stupid that the answer had been clear as day: he wanted to train in fighting. I instantly recoiled from the idea and said no. Though he argued passionately with me, I would not be moved, so he stormed out of the room in a in a black mood.

After days of him not speaking to me, I asked Arwen what she thought. And like her father, she gave good counsel. "Our son, Eldarion, went through the same stage as Aratan is now entering." she said, as we walked through the Great Hall where Elessar's throne sat.

"Eldarion, too, felt the need to prove himself, and that is exactly what Aratan is doing now. The boy wishes to do things for himself, as we have very well seen him do. I understand your disagreement with such a thing happening. You worry for him constantly, Anarion, yet he does not to be sheltered under your wing any longer."

Now she stopped walking and turned me. "Rethink your quick decision, Anarion. You do not want him fighting and have the possibility open that he may hurt himself, but think about his pride. It is very sensitive." she finished, and said goodbye, for she needed to find her husband.

I did rethink my decision, and that night I told Aratan that he may train with the men, so long as he was careful.

Aniron has surprised me, for she wishes to learn to play an instrument like I can my old harp, which I play at night and sometimes at midday. I told her that was fine, and we searched for an instrument for her to play.

Suddenly I remembered Anariel's flute, and so I rushed to my room and dug through the chest at the end of my bed. I tossed aside clothing, and books, and near the bottom, I caught sight of the metal instrument.

The flute sat on an envelope, and I recognized it as the one Anariel had given to me the night she died so many years ago. I had never read it.

My interest peaked, I took the flute and set it on the bed to later give to Aniron, and I opened the old package. The paper inside was yellow with age, but otherwise it was in good condition.

I pulled the parchment out and this is what I read:

To my sister, Anarion,

This is my will, and last word of what I have left to say to the world and to you. In this envelope you will find what Elanwë gave me before we left our first home. It is mother's will, and in it you shall read that she left the house to us.

I implore you to return there, sister. I understand how bitter you are about never knowing our parents, and I am sorry Iknew when you could not. But please, I believe you will find some of our lineage there, and what it means to be a daughter of Gil-Galad. You remember how we kept our true names secret from everyone save few? Keep it a secret no longer sister. I realize you would never rush down the streets of Imladris screaming that you are the daughter of an old king, but let whoever asks know…

I couldn't read anymore, for I was crying and laughing until my sides hurt at my dear sister's accurate predictions and the hilarious image she had created of my screaming that I was a daughter of a dead king. However, even if I did scream at all in Imladris, she would not have been there screaming with me, and no one would have heard anyway, for all were gone from that place, save Elrond, Elrohir, and Celeborn. How I miss her dear humor and bright company. I felt ashamed thatI was such a bore and melencholy companion, and I shall regret it for the remainder of my life.


End file.
